


Let Me Get (What I Want)

by FreshBrains



Category: Pretty In Pink (1986)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Coitus Interruptus, Community: femslash_today, F/F, Foe Yay, Graduation, Hate Sex, Kissing, POV Andie, Post-High School, Post-Movie(s), Sneaking Around, Tribadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 04:05:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5319821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t think I’ll ever understand you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Get (What I Want)

**Author's Note:**

> For the LJ femslash_today [Cold Snap: Winter 2015 Porn Battle](http://femslash-today.livejournal.com/620853.html) prompt: _Pretty in Pink, Andie Walsh/Benny Hanson, graduation party_.
> 
> Mentions of past het relationships.

Andie never planned to have an actual grad party. They weren’t really in fashion anymore, and besides, the only people who would come would be her Aunt Helen, Blane, Duckie, and Jena, and she could see any of them on any given day (besides Helen, who lived in Toledo). There was nothing like the feeling of throwing a party for yourself, especially one where people were supposed to bring money. Andie was done with these kinds of things, these _expectations._

Then her dad went and planned a graduation party.

“So then Andie was walking down the hall, and _man_ , she looked like a million bucks, all decked out in pink silky shit, and _this_ idiot,” Duckie is exclaiming, clutching a blushing Blane by the shoulders and shaking him, “swoops in like a knight in shining Armani, and—“

Andie rolls her eyes as she closes her bedroom door, needing half a second of peace. Her dad is grilling hamburgers out in the front yard under a paper _Congrats, Grad_ banner, and Helen and Andie’s two cousins she hasn’t seen in years are enthralled with Duckie’s dramatic reenactments of Andie’s life. More people showed up than Andie ever expected—kids she hung out with behind the school, girls who always seemed to shy or too hardcore to ever talk to Andie in class but arrived with smiles and cards to the party.

“Maybe high school just _creates_ idiots,” she says to herself, leaning her forehead against her bedroom door.

“And maybe some idiots are just _born_ ,” says a voice from Andie’s bed.

Andie whips around, hair sticking to her pink-glossed lips. “Shit,” she sighs, crossing her arms. “What the hell are you doing here? And in my _room_ , no less?”

“These are cute,” Benny Hanson says, stroking a line of Russian nesting dolls Andie has displayed on her bookshelf. “My mom had a few like them when I was a kid. Pretty sure my dad got them in the divorce, though.”

“How sad,” Andie sneers. She doesn’t _hate_ Benny—she really can’t, now that they’re done with high school. Benny’s cruelty was something that extended to everyone, not just Andie, and even when Benny’s friends dared to branch out, they faced Benny’s particular brand of socially-venomous pride. She doesn’t take Benny personally. But that doesn’t mean they’re friends, and Andie’s room is _hers_ , it’s her private sanctuary where she and her friends can be themselves, and Benny can’t fit. “Who did you come with?”

“Me, myself, and I,” Benny says, tossing back her soft blonde hair. “Blane said this shindig was today.”

“And why would you care?”

“To see what you were all about,” Benny says, and suddenly _looks_ at Andie, deeper and cooler than anything she’d ever thrown Andie’s way before.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Andie says, reaching for the doorknob. But she doesn’t turn it—not yet. There’s a not-unpleasant trill of butterflies rushing through her stomach, and it’s a feeling she’s familiar with. It’s the feeling of a beautiful person _seeing_ you for the first time—and all the accompanying dread. “You really need to go.”

“I’m still wondering what Steff ever saw in you,” Benny muses, tilting her head. “I mean, I’m not _blind_. You’ve got a cute face. Nice lips. And your hair is certainly unique.”

“Nice lips?” Andie can’t help it—Benny is _flirting_ with her, and she can’t believe it. Benny Hanson, Queen Bitch Extraordinaire, the girl who would gladly call Jena a dyke in gym class, the girl who fucked Steff with the door open at a house party. “What game are you playing here?”

“No game,” Benny says, and stands. She’s wearing a dull blue blouse and skintight jeans; she’s practically _airbrushed_ , she’s so ideal. “Come here.”

“No,” Andie whispers, back against her bedroom door. She hears her father laugh outside; she hears Duckie launch into a story about how amazing his new girlfriend is. But she doesn’t leave.

“Don’t puss out on me, Walsh,” Benny says. She’s got a cigarette-ad voice. Andie feels it in her knees. “Let me see what _they_ see.” She takes a step towards Andie, another. She’s smirking—her lips are too pink, her lipstick a shade too frosty for her skin tone. Andie decides she likes this imperfection. “Let me feel what Blane feels.”

Andie feels her body relax against the pressboard of her door, shoulders digging into the hard surface. Her breath stops short the closer Benny gets. At that moment, something flips—now _Andie_ is in Blane and Steff’s shoes, not Benny. She’s seeing this girl through _their_ eyes; she’s seeing someone who wants to please and be pleased, who would do anything to get it. High school desperation at its finest. “Then take it,” Andie says plainly.

Benny pauses for a moment like she’s thrown off kilter, but before Andie can call her on it, Benny’s mouth lands on hers. She’s a practiced kisser, but a passive one. Their lips connect, Andie’s bottom lip sucked gently between Benny’s, but it’s like they’re both waiting for the other to react. So Andie reaches up, gripping Benny’s forearms, and kisses her harder, sliding her tongue against the seam of Benny’s lips.

Benny makes a pleased little noise, low in her throat, and when Andie moves one hand around to place on Benny’s waist, Benny arches her back sweetly, like she’s grateful for the grounding touch. Andie trembles with _something_ —lust, sure, but also _power_. She’s where Steff has been, Steff the jack-ass who mocked Andie when he realized he’d never fuck her. She’s doing _better_ than Steff ever did. She uses her other hand to swipe Benny’s long hair over her shoulder before cupping her neck, making sure she scratches her fingernails over the pale skin a little as they continue to kiss.

“Do you get it now?” Andie hardly lets their lips part; she doesn’t want to give Benny a chance to speak. Their bodies press tight together, Andie holding Benny in close by her waist. Benny is a little taller, so with a firm pull, Andie tugs her in so Benny has to brace herself with her hands on the door on either side of Andie’s head. She presses a soft kiss to Benny’s top lip, then _bites_ , soothing the nipped flesh before Benny can protest further than a startled gasp. “Do I feel what they feel?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Benny murmurs, and ducks down to kiss Andie’s neck. She’s shaking; her hips are arching towards Andie’s. Their breasts push together. Benny’s nipples are small and hard beneath her blouse; Andie wants to take one in her mouth and _tug_ , just to see Benny’s pretty face twist into a pleasure-pain grimace.

Andie feels her body react before her mind, and her body wants to make Benny come, to make her fall apart. “Here,” she says, voice edging on frustrated, and she grasps Benny’s hips. She pushes her thigh between Benny’s legs and moans, high and startled, at how _warm_ Benny is, how riled up she is just by having Andie Walsh’s working-class thrift-shop mouth all over her. “I bet you’ve done this before. In the back of Steff’s BMW.”

“I said,” Benny groans, setting her hips in a slow grind, rubbing her denim-covered cunt against Andie’s thigh, “ _shut up_.” Her face is buried in Andie’s neck, cheeks hot against Andie’s collarbone. She braces herself harder on her elbows, body working to get that friction, that sweet feeling of her clit against the seam of her jeans. Andie knows the feeling, but she’s wearing tights and dress. She’s turned on, cunt wet beneath her layers, but she knows how to get herself off. She’s got Blane to get her off if she wants him to.

This is about seeing if she can make Benny Hanson come in her Levis.

“Andie,” a voice says from outside the door, and both girls startle, Benny’s head shooting up, features frozen in panic. It’s Andie’s dad. “Food’s about ready. It’s your day, sweetheart, you can’t hide forever.”

Andie inhales sharply, trying to make sense of how this is happening in her _room_ , in her _life._ “Okay, Dad,” she says. “Be right out.”

Benny pulls away, sighing at the loss of contact from Andie’s thigh pressing against her. She smooths her blouse down and shakes out her hair. “I guess you’re just full of surprises,” she says, her words sharp. “You go out first. I’ll make a discreet exit, don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” Andie says, and steps away. “Hide in the closet.”

“Bitch,” Benny snaps, but does as she’s told. Before she closes the door, she fixes Andie with another one of her piercing ice-blue glares. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand you.”

“You don’t need to,” Andie says. She opens her bedroom door, ready to face her party, her last high-school hurrah, with her clit throbbing under her skirt and her lip gloss smudged across her cheek.

She never speaks to Benny Hanson again.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Smiths song featured in the film.


End file.
